I have always been neurotic about my toilets. The top, the lid, the seat, the basin, all around the base and behind. It must all be clean and free of dust, hair, or dried urine. It is my pet peeve. I must admit that I look around the bottom of other people's toilets when I go to their house to see if they have the same feelings about toilets as I do. Most people don't. And it is not that I find them to be gross or dirty. Rather, they are probably a lot less anal about things in general than I am. Anyway.
All this time, I have just thought myself to be neurotic. Compulsive. Problematic. But today, I discovered the truth about my deal with the toilet cleaning. It has nothing to do with being mental at all. Yet it has been for the instance when, as today, I must squeeze my body in that tiny space between the tub and the toilet on the floor to paint behind it. No fear of dust bunnies. No fear of tee tee drips. No fear at all because my toilet is clean. The floor around it is clean. And I have no fear in getting up close in personal with what is so gross to so many people. My toilet.
It may be the only thing in my house that is clean, but at least it is clean.